The Sting
by Kristen999
Summary: The team has to go undercover to root out the latest threat to Pegasus. A drug dealer trafficking the Wraith enzyme. Who’s going to con who? And most importantly. Who has the coolest costume? Team fic. Lots of guns, fights, and insults.


**Title:** "The Sting"  
**Genre:**Action/Adventure  
**Word Count:** 13,600~  
**Rating:**PG  
**Warnings:**None  
**Summary:** The team has to go undercover to root out the latest threat to Pegasus. A drug dealer trafficking the Wraith enzyme. Who's going to con who? And most importantly. Who has the coolest costume? Team fic. Lots of guns, fights, and insults.  
**Notes:** Big, wonderful thanks to my betas: everybetty and wildcat88

**Written for the Genficathon 2009. **Prompt Don't bring a knife to a gun fight

* * *

The theme from_ Miami Vice_ was on a continuous loop; no one could hear it of course, not unless speakers magically grew out of his ears. The very idea that a song from a bad 1980's TV show could have taken over his mind was appalling. This wasn't South Florida; there were no sports cars or hot super models hanging around. Okay, the jumper could outperform any Ferrari and Teyla could kick any woman's ass on a catwalk.

And no matter how hard Sheppard and Ronon tried, the two of them would never be Crockett and Tubbs. Thank God.

Rodney scrubbed the pink pastel world out of his head, blaming re-runs on _TV Land_ during his trip to Earth for rotting precious brain cells.

"McKay, I said, pay attention."

"I was paying—I mean, um...what were you saying?"

Teyla was too polite to laugh, in his face at least. Ronon twirled his blaster, a smile playing over his lips. If he quoted Tombstone one more time, Rodney was going to make Sheppard eat the DVD. It was the colonel's fault for picking that for movie night the previous week; Ronon had been enamored with it ever since.

"Maybe if you stopped daydreaming."

"Did you forget how to use a life signs detector?" Rodney huffed at Sheppard's pissy expression, glancing up at the sky in an exaggerated fashion. "No, there doesn't appear to be any activity."

Admittedly, taunting Sheppard when he was in one of his moods was like poking a stick at a grumpy lion. The hair and demeanor were exactly the same, the growl only slightly less scary.

But Sheppard didn't verbally spar back, just resumed his prowl around the gate, P-90 at constant readiness.

Teyla seized the moment to wander over to make Rodney feel guilty. "Must you antagonize him?"

"You were in the same meeting where he hatched this hare-brained idea. If you ask me, he's watched _Ocean's Eleven_ too many times."

Rodney had every intention of ragging Sheppard about this. The man'd had some warped, idiotic ideas before, but they were always made at the brink of certain doom, where leeway was allowed for such insanity. But this!

"This is nuts," he blurted out loud.

"He has a point," Ronon grunted.

Rodney folded his arms. "I rest my case."

Sheppard practically gave himself whiplash at the whine of a familiar engine.

Rodney glanced at his tablet. "I'm detecting a Hive in orbit."

"What was your first clue?" Sheppard deadpanned, weapon pointed in the direction of the dart and the approaching figure. "How many life signs?"

Rodney checked again. "Just the one."

The rest of the team took positions around the Wraith. Ronon didn't snarl when Todd walked by him, but it didn't stop him from glaring, his hand twitching around that cannon of his. Teyla remained dignified, nodding politely and maintaining the poise she'd learned during the whole posing as a Wraith queen incident.

The colonel met Todd's curious expression with a cool as ice exterior.

"Sheppard," Todd purred. "What can I do for you?"

"I think we have a mutual problem."

"Really? And what would that be?"

For crying out loud, enough with the tap dancing. "Come on already," Rodney sighed, rolling his eyes.

Sheppard ignored him and went on. "We know that you guys have suffered some losses recently."

Todd didn't take the bait.

"There's been a group of humans hunting down Wraith and mutilating their bodies. There haven't been enough deaths to raise alarms so far. After all, what are fewer mouths to feed? But the numbers are mounting."

"You have my interest," Todd replied.

"I bet if you looked closely, the corpses all have something missing."

Rodney couldn't take the colonel's sense for the dramatic and jumped in. "The Wraith are being poached for their enzyme glands. I'm sure you're aware of the enzyme's potent effects on humans?"

"It is a rather unsettling reality. Though the chemical reaction from the feeding process has other benefits," Todd said slyly.

Ronon bared his teeth and clenched his fists.

Sheppard sent Ronon a silent signal that kept the big man's temper in place. "A very well organized group of people are harvesting a whole lot of Wraith to fuel a sick new demand for the enzyme. And that's not good for either of our people."

"Do you think we cannot handle a few... _humans_?" Todd challenged.

"I think you guys are so busy with politics and where your next meal is coming from that you haven't realized how screwed you are."

Sheppard's tone got Todd's attention and the alpha posturing was dropped. "We've discovered a great demand for this stuff on an alarming number of worlds. The greater the demand..."

"The greater demand for our enzyme," Todd finished as he nodded in realization. "I admit it is difficult to keep up with our numbers with the infighting between hives."

"We thought it was just a few scattered incidents in random cities," Teyla spoke. "However, we were wrong. Whoever is gathering the enzyme is supplying more and more worlds, increasing addiction rates and spreading this illness to others."

"If we're not careful, this whole thing could explode into an epidemic. The last thing we need is populations hopped up and strung out on enzyme."

"What McKay is trying to say is, we need to break up this ring before it gets too big to handle."

Todd studied Sheppard, the gears turning behind that pasty face. "Why are you telling me this?"

This ought to be good. Leave it to Sheppard to act coy. "We were just trying to be conscientious," he drawled.

Todd knew this was a lead-up to a ridiculous request. "You need something."

Oh yeah. Just a little help with re-creating the enzyme. No big deal.

"Maybe," Sheppard said.

Todd tilted his head in amusement. "What are you planning to do?"

Sheppard grinned ear to ear, the tough guy act all but forgotten. "We're going undercover to shut it down."

And the drums of _Miami Vice_ swelled inside Rodney's head.

* * *

Rodney had hated drama in school, even if he'd won a few awards as a kid. Not that it mattered for someone who had skipped several grade levels. Besides, truly legitimate schools were concerned with real research and academics, and dismissed acting as a frou-frou credit used to justify large creative arts' budgets. To think they gave out scholarships for such things.

He fiddled with the non-prescription glasses he was using as his disguise and shoved them in his pocket.

Then he hurried to the locker room, lugging a stupid black briefcase in addition to his normal gear, and slumped down on the bench, out of breath.

"Where's your lab coat?"

"I'm not wearing a lab coat, Sheppard. I don't wear one _now_. And I don't know how 'dressing up' is supposed to help me--"

Rodney finally looked up and lost all his vocabulary skills. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"The leader."

"Of what? A sci-fi role-playing troupe?"

Sheppard was either a reject from a Matrix movie or he wanted to prowl for goth chicks. His t-shirt was almost hidden by a long, fitted black leather coat cut at the waist so it flared out slightly and hung only an inch off the floor. The chest and back material looked like lizard skin and both shoulders were adorned with spiky segmented armor.

"Do you really need two sidearms? You're pushing the space cowboy thing a little far."

"We're supposed to be a ruthless drug gang. We need to look the part."

Sheppard wasn't kidding. Both guns were highly visible, his vest bulging with extra ammo clips, and his K-bar knife was probably hidden in the back of his belt. For all he knew, Sheppard also concealed a Highlander sword.

"That's a Wraith coat," Rodney accused.

"Borrowed it from Todd. If we're going to be posing as bad asses then we need to--"

"Look the part. Yeah, yeah." But where were his cool clothes? It wasn't fair. "You get to be the cyber punk and I get stuck being the geek."

"You are a geek," Ronon said from the doorway. He actually _strutted_ over, wearing an elaborate coat made of crimson leather so polished that you could see your reflection. "Here," he said, handing Rodney a necklace of Wraith teeth. "We're all supposed to wear one."

"Because I want a string of rotted fangs around my neck. Oh wait. They're supposed to match my white lab coat," Rodney mocked, slipping on the jewelry and giving Sheppard the evil eye.

"I packed the jumper with a spare, so you'll still have one." Sheppard smirked.

"You sure you don't want a spike collar instead?" Rodney snarked back.

"The necklaces are symbols of our conquests as Wraith hunters," Ronon spoke proudly.

Rodney fingered one of the incisors dangling around his throat, imagining the Satedan all wild-eyed, stalking a drone and killing it with his bare hands. He refrained from any sarcastic comments, aware of all the blood and sweat that went in to obtaining it.

"Are we ready?"

Rodney turned toward Teyla and his eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. Her auburn hair was streaked with red highlights and fell loosely over her shoulders. There were Wraith symbols tattooed down her neck and over her chest, the rest of the designs disappearing under her black sleeveless halter top. Dark leather pants replaced her normal BDUs and a Glock was holstered on her left hip.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Seriously? Did I miss a meeting in our secret costume and makeup department?"

"You're the Chemist," Teyla said. "I did not think you required a costume."

"Yes, I'm the _Chemis_t," he snorted, putting the words in air quotes. "How imaginative of our team leader. And look, here's my prop." Rodney pulled out the fake glasses and pushed them over his nose.

"They look very distinguished." Teyla smiled. "And you do not have the added burden of having to act outside your normal comfort zone like the rest of us," she reasoned.

"Speak for yourself," Ronon snorted. "I'm always a badass."

Rodney put on his vest while scavenging inside his locker. With an "A-ha!" he found his leather jacket and shrugged it triumphantly. "Who says pharmaceutical whizzes have to wear lab coats?"

"I don't know. All you lab people are supposed to look a bit off. Maybe if you turned your clothes inside out or spoke in a German accent." Sheppard gave him a disapproving expression. "You look too normal."

"Maybe I should dye my hair hot pink or wear a tinfoil hat." Rodney's rant landed on deaf ears as he glared at them all, his eyes inadvertently settling on Teyla's chest. "Those are temporary, right?" At her arched eyebrow his cheeks turned a bright scarlet. "I meant the tattoos of course, not that... well...um..."

"Yes, the designs will wear off in a few days."

Sheppard had no qualms admiring the _artwork_. "Should have gotten Keller to give me some fake tats."

"I could you give you a real one." Ronon smiled.

With all the fun and games, it was hard to believe they were about to seek out the scum of the galaxy in a mission that was bound to get them all killed in the most brutal manner possible.

Pegasus drug dealers were bound to give the cartels on Earth a run for their money.

* * *

They headed for the third bar on M1P-176 since the previous two hadn't crawled with enough vermin for Sheppard's taste. If they kept at their current rate, Rodney was going to be drunk off his ass.

Darmous was a bustling boomtown by most standards, one of those overnight trading Meccas that enjoyed brisk prosperity while the Wraith dealt with their broken numbers.

The accepted philosophy here was to live one day at a time and enjoy it while you damn well could.

The place was a backwater, stunted town that would give most third-world countries a run for their money, but this one had an Old West meets Shanghai feel. On the one hand, the town was filled with typical dirt roads, taverns, and unlawful brutes of every size and shape. Yet past the wagons and vendors hawking their wares in old style booths, there was ice in the drinks, men with old-fashioned cameras willing to take your picture if you sat long enough, and furnaces in the back of most establishments for cold winter nights.

Pretty sophisticated for a planet that risked being culled.

It was this type of commerce that attracted visitors through the gate, lured those seeking fortune or pleasure. The transient population made it the perfect center for a black market operation.

Rodney took a seat at the end of the bar, eying the gathering riffraff with disdain. He despised crowds. "Can we leave if this turns out to be a bust?"

"I think we might be here a while," Teyla remarked.

Every head in the room turned as they entered. Carrying enough weapons to arm a small army seemed to get people's attention. Ronon was in his element, matching each look with a more menacing one. "Think this might be the place."

"Yeah, to get stabbed in the back," Rodney mumbled.

"The people we interrogated during the investigation said those who supplied the enzyme came from this world," Teyla said quietly, then smiled at the outsized bartender who wandered their way.

"What can I get ya?" he inquired of Teyla's breasts.

Teyla grabbed the man's chin to pull his attention away from her body and toward her eyes. "To start with, you will address me to my face." She never let go, squeezing until the bartender went stock still.

"Wine or ale? It's on the house."

Teyla took a foaming mug of ale and actually chugged the thing. Ronon's grin widened by a mile while Sheppard admired her ability to gulp the whole beer without taking a breath.

She slammed the glass down and wiped the froth from the corner of her lips. "Not bad. I'll have another."

Sheppard tapped the empty spot on the bar in front of him. "While you're at it...how about the rest of us?"

The burly bartender wiped the area down, grumbling under his breath. Sheppard took that opportunity to pull a considerable amount of coinage from one of his pockets, sliding the money across the bar. "I think this should cover things for a while. And I don't want any of your swill. How about the good stuff?"

All that was missing was the _ka-ching_ noise of a cash register.

Suddenly the big ox was all smiles, wiping his greasy paws on his equally filthy apron. "The name's Manny. Whatever ya want, just ask."

Ronon sniffed his drink, swirled the amber liquid, and gulped it down. He cased the entrance without turning his head and belched loudly to cover his canvassing with the disgusting sound.

The 'good stuff' was like acid, like slightly watered-down rubbing alcohol. Rodney fought his gag reflex, choking the liquid down then searching for a glass of water to no avail.

Nighttime set in, sending everyone to the rapidly crowding tavern for their liquid dinner. Too many people crammed inside the sardine can, leaving very little elbow room. Rodney started sweating profusely, mopping his brow with his shirtsleeve.

The colonel with his S&M Wraith outfit showed no signs of discomfort except the small beads of sweat at his hairline. He was even still wearing his aviator sunglasses. One thing was for certain: Sheppard's P-90 was gaining a lot of attention sitting nice and pretty for all to see on the bar.

Manny was quick with the drinks, but hurried from corner to dark corner, whispering with others.

The various inquiries and rumor mongering weren't subtle. Soon the big ox was at their beck and call, cleaning the same dingy spot in front of Sheppard. "So, what brings ya here? Ya lookin' for something?"

"Usually people look for _us_," Sheppard replied.

"Yeah? Are ya mercenaries?" Manny inquired, scanning their weapons.

"No, we handle people's problems in other ways."

"Ya deal in guns?" Manny's eyes strayed toward Rodney. "Stolen tech?" When no answer was forthcoming, he smiled. "Slaves?"

Sheppard fingered his necklace. "Something better."

They had every eye and ear in the room. It wasn't like Sheppard was trying to keep his voice down. Ronon no longer slouched over the bar, now he stood to his full scary-as-hell height, a neon sign saying: _listen, but don't get too close to us._

Manny flicked his gaze from the team to his dishrag. "Don't care about Wraith trophies."

"Neither do we." Sheppard matched the stares from the left and right side of the bar. "What about the enzyme?" When the bartender blinked at the clearly unfamiliar word Sheppard scowled. "The power of the Wraith. The clear fluid that gives them strength."

Rodney winced, sweat soaking his back. This was it. Like waving a syringe and shouting, _"Who wants a fix?"_

"Enzyme, huh?" Manny feigned ignorance.

"You don't know of its wonders?" Teyla cooed. "Strength, endurance, like liquid fire in your veins."

"Do you like to play with fire?" The ox leered, hand reaching to stroke her hair.

Teyla replied by twisting the man's wrist and slamming it down. "Do you?"

"No," squeaked out.

Ronon leaned over dangerously. "You pour the drinks. Nothing more."

Teyla released her hold. "You could use some enzyme," she taunted.

His customers snickered and the bartender returned to stocking his bottles with his tail between his legs.

"Do you want a megaphone?" Rodney whispered to Sheppard. "How about a billboard?"

"Just keep smiling, McKay. We want the attention, remember?" Sheppard hissed back, checking their surroundings.

Rodney noticed a guy stagger over, his cronies a motley crew of degenerates with ragged clothes and low-tech guns. Ronon stepped into his path and the guy barely noticed until he'd bounced off the big man's chest and nearly fallen over.

"Hey, just wanna talk."

Rodney could smell _it_, the way the guy's skin sweated out the drug. Days spent with Ford's merry men were hard to forget; the odor had hung in the air, heavy and pungent.

The stranger's face twitched and his hands couldn't stay still. "I heard you guys got something we want."

Sheppard made a show of asking for another round, completely unconcerned by those trying to intimidate them. He waited for his drink then took a long, slow sip before replying. "We have plenty of what you want."

"That's good to hear," the stranger crooned.

"But we don't deal with little people."

How many times had Sheppard practiced that line in front of a mirror?

A hush replaced the hustle and bustle. Every muscle tensed. An entire bar held its breath.

The twitchy man shook with anger, clenching his fists. "Maybe we'll just take it from you."

Ronon was outwardly bored looking, though Rodney knew better. He recognized the set of his teammate's shoulders, how all his limbs loosened before striking.

Teyla had slid off her seat, her body coiled and ready.

Sheppard slipped off his shades and rested them on the bar.

"Really?" The colonel picked up his weapon, flipped the safety off, then clipped it to his vest and allowed it to dangle freely. "I'd like to see you try."

The stranger was lightning quick, grappling with enzyme-heightened reflexes for Sheppard's P-90. And not just his hands--three or four others reached for the colonel's arms and shoulders.

Seconds were fleeting things. You could have the upper hand in one then be flat on your back the next.

Ronon cracked two skulls together, dropping the thugs behind Sheppard while Teyla kicked the feet out from under another goon.

The stranger fell to one knee as the colonel held his wrist at a sharp angle. "Not good enough."

"Think I'm alone?"

Sheppard grinned. "Never did." Then he shoved the guy to the ground.

Teyla nudged Rodney between Ronon and the colonel, both closing ranks around him. People lunged forward. More bad guys, more random people searching for a fight.

Ronon ducked and weaved with ease, smashing faces in return. While the thugs were reckless, the Satedan was focused. He anticipated moves, countering blows with stronger ones of his own. Watching the big man fight gave meaning to _float like a butterfly, sting like a bee._

Rodney held fast against the bar, the wood digging into his spine, watching his team give lessons in hand-to-hand. Teyla was fluid grace, bending away from people twice her size and chopping them down with punches to the head and mid-section.

Then he saw the glint of metal before she did.

"Teyla!"

Rodney pulled out his gun, unable to aim with so many moving bodies. Teyla dodged the knife, using the guy's forward momentum to snap his arm in the other direction and break it.

The crowd created a circle, screaming and hollering for more. It was too many sweating, stinking people and the bad guys used the confusion to leap in and out of the horde toward the team. One barreled into Rodney and he yelped, slamming the handle of his Beretta over the guy's skull.

They were in the middle an all out brawl.

Sheppard was smart; Ronon and Teyla were the better fighters, taking on most of the bad guys. But he was the main target, many trying and failing to get near him.

Gone was Sheppard's casual manner. Those who got past the gauntlet were taken care of with military efficiency and whatever worked. Break a nose; go for the sternum. Use your elbow or your knees.

Rodney heard the glass break on the bar, saw a guy with long hair wield it like a blade. Sheppard one-upped him, defending with the bar stool, clobbering him in the jaw and slamming it onto his back.

"We done?" Sheppard asked breathlessly when no one else tried to attack. "Good."

If anything, the tavern was busier, the allure of blood and broken bones too much to pass over. Sheppard checked on Ronon and Teyla, neither the worse for wear. Then he slipped on his shades and rapped his knuckles on the bar. "How about another?"

Rodney picked up the overturned stool and sat on it, his body still shaking from adrenaline. "Better be glad no one here had any real training," he warned. They'd been badly out-numbered and even those with poor fighting skills were dangerous on the enzyme. And there was no telling how many were using it.

"I knew we could handle it," Sheppard retorted, drumming his fingers on the bar. "We needed to shake things up."

That was an understatement. They couldn't have wound the crowd up any tighter. People clambered closer, but lost the nerve at the last second. Ronon and Teyla's gazes crisscrossed the room and finally, some inebriated soul was just drunk enough to risk things.

"You're all on it. Right? I mean how else could ya take on twenty people?"

It wasn't twenty, maybe ten or twelve. Didn't matter. Random stranger number two rambled and raved loud enough for the whole bar to hear. "I've seen someone run forever on _it_. Farmers working nonstop in the fields, bringing in four times the average harvest without a break. It's a miracle."

"It has its uses," Sheppard said coolly.

"Uses? I was in the military on my world. My unit could do any mission. We were unstoppable."

"It makes you feel more alive."

Rodney gripped his glass tighter and tighter with every testimonial. Had he ranted like that? Were these people that freaking stupid? Did they have a clue what the enzyme did to their blood chemistry, their electrolytes? To what little brains they had left?

He wanted to throttle those gathering around them like a campfire. Ronon and Teyla played along, both sounding like spokesmodels for the stuff; if you called Ronon's grunts of agreement, speaking.

And Sheppard sat there, basking in being the center of attention. Rodney thought about kicking him in the shin, then caught on to all the little signs that no one else but his team could have read.

The perma-grin so fake it was made of hard plastic. The stupid chuckles.

Then it hit him. Those nifty two hundred dollar sunglasses were a mask the colonel hid behind.

"Dregar controls such trade on Darmous." The new voice accompanied a middle-aged guy who looked like your typical bar bouncer. Broad shoulders, hands that might crush small boulders, beat-up jacket and two day's worth of beard. The only thing missing was a pony tail. Their newly acquired fan club moved out of his way.

"Not anymore," Sheppard replied, standing up and resting his arms casually on his P-90.

Ronon had never sat down and was ready to rearrange the guy's face if he did anything shady.

"You can't just come here, run your mouth, and think you can muscle in on territory that's already taken. Dregar sits on the throne here."

Sheppard went toe-to-toe with the guy, his Wraith get-up trumping the biker look easily. "What was your name? I normally like to know who I'm speaking to."

"Troff."

It took all of Rodney's willpower to keep a straight face.

"Troff. The last I checked, supply ruled the game and we have the largest amount of enzyme in Pegasus." The colonel cocked his head. "Guess that makes me the king."

"You?" Troff scoffed. "We've been running the pipeline for cycles. We have hunting parties across eight systems that capture Wraith. Can you do that?"

"We don't have to," Sheppard said.

That was his cue. Rodney started to shrink from the pressure; the rest of his teammates offered silent reassurances. Troff pinned him with a stare and the bar suddenly became an auditorium of sneering drama geeks.

"You see," Teyla piped up, oozing sensuality as she glided toward him. "This is our greatest mind. But you will refer to him as The Chemist."

"Don't underestimate him. He knows how to kill you a thousand different ways," Ronon whispered.

The burly guy's face faltered then he snorted in disbelief. "So what?"

Rodney stiffened. Not in fear, no. Not this time. He caught Ronon's eyes and smiled. "_So what?_ Do you know the molecular makeup of chloroethylhexene? Can you tell the difference between diacetyl and dimethyl diketone? Can you even pronounce phenylpropanolamine?"

Troff stared at him in confusion, just another brute without an I.Q. Rodney had just gotten started. "Do you even know what the Wraith enzyme is? No, didn't think so. It's a complex metabolic that causes norepinephrine, dopamine, and serotonin transporters to reverse their direction of flow in the brain. This inversion leads to a release of transmitters from the vesicles to the cytoplasm and from the cytoplasm to the synapses, causing increased stimulation of post-synaptic receptors."

"What is he talking about?" someone asked.

Rodney spun around at the befuddled onlookers, wishing for a PowerPoint display. "The enzyme enters the brain and triggers a cascading release of chemicals. It's not magic. It has parts, parts most of you couldn't possibly comprehend, but with a mind like mine, well--"

"What the good doctor is trying to say is that the enzyme can be made in a lab," Sheppard interrupted.

"_Made_?" Troff parroted.

"Yes, as in created." Rodney cleared his throat, raising his voice. "I have the key to an endless supply of enzyme. Without the Wraith."

The bar swelled with excitement. Even if most of the people hanging around had never tasted the drug, the enzyme's reputation was well known.

"Does it do the same thing?"

"How much do you have?"

"Where can we get it?"

"Hold on!" Troff shouted over the noise. "You fake the Wraith venom?"

Venom? These people lacked serious creativity in naming things. Rodney counted to three in his head. "Artificially create it. There's a difference."

"Who wants a rip-off? I bet it doesn't even work."

Ronon sensed his opening, a predator playing with his prey. "You think it doesn't?" His teammate pulled out one of a million knives and pressed his left hand flat against the bar.

The room hushed in anticipation, pressing in closer. Troff backed up a step, glancing at the bartender then at the Satedan.

Ronon splayed his fingers apart, taking the tip of the knife and jabbing it in the tiny spaces between each digit in rapid succession. It was a fascinating spectacle; the blade was no more than a flash of metal as he kept it in constant motion.

Each rotation he stabbed the table faster, the tip of the weapon marking holes in the wood. Rodney waited for him to stop, the knife nothing now but a rapid plunking sound. Round and round. And with every pass, Rodney's heart pounded harder.

Sweat dripped off Ronon's nose, down his arm. There was hollering and cheering. And the scariest aspect of the show?

Ronon never took his eyes off Troff, never looked at his own hand. Rodney was getting dizzy watching the dance, his chest constricting at the thought of spilled blood.

When he didn't think Conan could go any faster, the big guy slammed the knife into the bar inches away from his foe and got right into Troff's face. "I'm your huckleberry."

Troff flinched and the crowd murmured to themselves, obviously impressed by the insult they didn't understand. Rodney sent a death glare at Sheppard who was doing everything in his power not to burst into laughter at the mangled use of the Doc Holliday quote.

It worked.

Drunks and lunatics showered them all with offers of drinks and requests of deals and in the meantime Troff slipped out between the masses, undoubtedly to report to his boss.

Rodney pretended to drink for the rest of the night, shooing away idiots who dared to try to comprehend his earlier words. His head pounded and his stomach growled for food. Thankfully, people ran out of money or time, and the four of them finally sat around the nearly empty bar.

He really hoped it wasn't sunrise already.

Sheppard stretched, popping bones that shouldn't make such noise. Teyla covered a long yawn and Ronon munched on what passed for chips.

"So, I think that went better than planned," the colonel said chipperly.

Ronon grabbed the rest of the snacks, smacking loudly. "What do we do next?"

Rodney didn't like the glee in Sheppard's eyes.

"Now, we turn up the heat."

* * *

_The stench assaulted Rodney's sensitive nose and he pinched his nostrils shut. Hands tugged on his vest, his boots; men on their hands and knees cried for help. All around people with tear-streaked cheeks wailed. Sweaty and filthy clothes covered skeletal bodies. The arms around his neck were frail and brittle. The woman's stringy hair stank of the enzyme._

_"Please, help us," she begged._

_"Look at them all," Teyla whispered, holding onto the hand of a child._

_"It's like a damn plague," Sheppard growled. "What does this make? Third town in the last two weeks?"_

_"But the whole village?" Teyla held the little boy close. "They couldn't all be using it?"_

_"They're not," Ronon grunted. "Most of the men, their warriors are on it. Some of the women, too," he gestured at the poor soul clinging to Rodney._

_"I'll radio Atlantis. Tell them we have another rehab center to set up," Sheppard said, reaching for his comm._

_"We gonna do something about this?" Ronon spat._

_Sheppard surveyed the gutted remains of a once thriving trading spot. "Yeah, once we figure out who's dealing it."_

"McKay, wake up."

Rodney's whole world shook and he pulled the rough blanket around him tighter.

"McKay."

"I'm asleep. Can't you see that?" Rodney growled. When he felt the thump again, he flipped onto his side. "And stop kicking the bed!"

"Come on, Sheppard said to haul your ass up. We've got a mission."

"What? I thought we were _on_ a mission."

"Yeah, this is part of it."

"I've slept for..." He blinked blearily at his watch. "Four hours? And on this lumpy mattress and near a drafty window that won't close. And did you hear all that noise last night?"

"Yeah. I scared away the guy who tried to break into your room."

"What?" Rodney was up like a shot, fumbling to find his pants. "Someone wanted to kidnap me already?"

"No, but now you'll ready when it happens," Ronon grinned.

* * *

The wagon had been pulled by a pair of donkey-horse animals that smelled of wet fur and dirty socks. The bitter liquid Teyla had the gall to call coffee sloshed around in his belly on the bumpy ride. To top off his morning they'd been forced to walk over a klick, using the woods on the outside of town for cover.

"This is incredibly stupid," he whispered despite the need for silence.

"We need to flush these guys out," Sheppard retorted, eying the open field ahead. He gave the signal to wait, the four of them crouched in the underbrush. "There are only two lookouts."

"I'm on it." Ronon disappeared into the undergrowth before Rodney could protest splitting up.

"Are you sure about this supposed intel? I mean, we're dealing with lowlifes and bottom feeders," Rodney asking, doing his best to use his low voice.

"I assure you that the source that contacted me after we left the bar is fairly reliable," Teyla explained, checking out their six. "I used certain measures to verify the truth," she alluded, but did not explain further.

"The money we gave the guy for his information helped a lot, too."

Rodney gave his team leader an exasperated expression. "We've been here what? One day and the locals want to help us? Sorry, that doesn't fit with our track record."

"I don't think this guy wanted to help. He saw us as a way to screw over Dregar so he followed us to the inn and bribed the owner to find which rooms we were using."

"And how come I wasn't asked?"

"Your room was at the end of the hall and you needed your beauty rest." Sheppard shook his head. "You don't remember looking for the karaoke machine, do you?"

Rodney sputtered at such a preposterous accusation. He'd drunk water the rest of the night. Hadn't he?

Sheppard's face was all serious business, checking his life signs detector. "I'm counting only ten out there. It'll be a piece of cake."

"Why would they make a large deal out in the open like this?" Teyla wondered.

"I'm not sure, but it might give us a slight advantage," Sheppard replied, watching the Satedan creep closer to his targets.

Ronon made easy work of the guards roaming the perimeter, sneaking up and knocking them both out. He dragged both bodies into a nearby ditch and hurried back over. "They were both armed with Genii rifles."

"Figures." Sheppard verified his weapon was in working order and stood behind the cover of a thick tree, his long leather coat billowing behind him like a freaking rock star. "Alright, let's make our introductions."

* * *

Two groups of men hung around the back of a wagon while one poor slob unloaded a set of small crates.

They had all the elements for a drug deal.

Buyers and sellers. Check.

Guns. Check.

Lots of testosterone. Check.

What didn't belong? One cocky Air Force pilot. Check.

"Hey guys?" Sheppard smiled, his P-90 at ready. Twelve rifles swung in his direction. "I'd be careful where you pointed those."

Teyla took aim at the wagon and demonstrated the firepower of sixty rounds a second, whittling the wooden vehicle into pieces. She circled behind the bewildered drug dealers while Ronon took the opposite side.

Rodney took a position across from Ronon, the four of them covering the bad guys from all four angles and perfecting the square in his head. This was a method they used often because mathematically it worked, even if Sheppard preferred putting himself in front of Rodney in all potential gun battles. But this op required a bit more flash and the four of them had to appear equally challenging.

That didn't stop Sheppard from drawing the most interest. "Now that we have your attention, I thought we'd have a chat."

Rodney recognized Troff right away. He still wore the same dingy clothes and heavy jacket. It was a wonder that birds hadn't taken residence in the shaggy rug of his hair. "These are the guys I was telling you about last night."

The guy in the center didn't carry a weapon and was the most steadfastly cool of the bunch. He held up a hand, signaling his men to stand down. The second group all looked to their leader and at the pudgy man's nod put their weapons down as well.

Mr. Cool stepped forward. "I'm Dregar, but I think you already know that. So, you're the newcomers who made a big show. I'm curious. For a group who claims to have an endless supply of our product, why do you feel the need to try to steal mine?"

"We're not." Sheppard kept his weapon trained on Dregar and focused his attention on the second group. "I wanted to tell your_ buyers_ about the competition in town."

Dregar's left eye twitched, the only indication of the rage that had to be brewing underneath his skin. With his tall, slender build and shoulder-length dirty blond hair he was the spitting image of Elrond from _Lord of the Rings_. Rodney only quit staring at the drug dealer after Teyla gave him a quizzical expression.

Right. Back in character. He was a brilliant, no nonsense chemist. Doing a tête-à-tête with the Elf King. An evil Elf King.

Dregar folded his hands behind his back in complete calm. "What competition? I've been running things in this galaxy for over a solar cycle. Never heard of you."

"It's a big galaxy. We know of your operations in this sector, how you were unable to fulfill orders on P4X-276 and P8X-925, leaving your clients in the dust."

"If you can't pay, you can't play."

"At your price, yeah. See that's where we got you beat," Sheppard said smugly, walking away from the dealer as if he wasn't worth his time. He strolled confidently towards the pudgy leader of the second group. "We can provide you with whatever you need for half the price."

"That's _drenk_ !" Dregar spun around and everyone's trigger fingers got real itchy. "We have outposts on dozens of planets, raiding and hunting parties for cullings. A lab to harvest the venom and a distribution system that can't be matched! There are only four of you."

"That you know of, but I'll let my team introduce themselves," Sheppard gestured.

Teyla's voice alone had the power to instill fear and gain respect. She faced Dregar without batting an eyelash and any idiot would think twice before messing with her. On a normal day she was an imposing figure, lithe and strong. On this mission, the wicked tattoos and leather accented her deadly persona.

"I am Teyla and Wraith blood flows in my veins. I use their taint to track their ships, their hives. I can sense them at great distances, making it easy to stalk them. But most of all..." She paused dramatically and stared at those who had her rapt attention. "...I can operate their technology. Fly their ships, read their minds and learn all their secrets."

It wasn't a huge stretch from the truth. And there was no way of proving or disproving any of it. But Rodney didn't think anyone had enough brains to question her story. Not when she had them wrapped around her little finger.

"What secrets?" Pudgy Guy asked with interest. "Word around town is you guys can make the venom without the Wraith. Is that true?"

"Yes. But I'll let the big brain here explain things."

Rodney blinked at Sheppard. "Yes, of course."

Show time.

"I could dazzle you with facts and chemical equations that would make your head spin. But, maybe a taste would be in order." Rodney pulled out the stupid black briefcase he'd been forced to carry around and popped it open. "This is artificially produced enzyme. Created in a lab. It's just as pure and just as potent as the real deal. And the best thing about it is I can create as much as I want."

"And at a fraction of the cost," Sheppard added, reeling the buyers in.

"No one can reproduce the venom. I have had one of the smartest Genii scientists working on a way since we began and he said it was impossible," Dregar spat.

"Your first mistake was trusting a Genii. The second was calling him smart. They're mere children playing in a grownup's game," Rodney mocked.

"And who are you?" Pudgy asked.

"I'm a genius. But you may refer to me as The Chemist." Rodney grinned, his heart pounding, his palms sweaty. But he was feeling it, feeling the rush. Now he knew what it was like to be Batman. Super-cool and incognito.

"You don't look like a smart guy," Dregar challenged.

"His lab coat is back home." Sheppard shrugged.

Pudgy whispered to his cohorts, all of them eying Rodney's briefcase. "And you and him?" The guy pointed at Ronon.

"Ronon takes care of my problems." Conan twirled his blaster, his hulking size enough of a statement. Sheppard smirked, the sunlight reflecting off his shades, guns poking from under his Wraith jacket. "And I'm the deal maker. So, what d'ya say we talk terms?"

"I want to try it," Pudgy stared at the briefcase eagerly, nearly salivating.

"Malick, we had a deal," Dregar growled.

"We discussed a deal; money has not exchanged hands," the buyer replied, almost tripping over himself to get his sample.

This was it. Three days straight with Todd cooking up a compound generated to ensure a human heart continued to beat during a feeding. A complex protein catalyst of over four thousand biochemical reactions a million times faster than any other in the body. His _sample_ had to reproduce methamphetamine with the properties of adrenaline and the euphoria of an opiate.

And it couldn't really make anyone super strong or paranoid, just make them think it did.

Malick grabbed the injector, but Rodney held onto it. "A taste is free, just remember that," he said using his best Bruce Wayne voice.

Malick squinted at the hypo, taking forever to figure out that the pointed end was indeed the correct direction and injected it into his forearm. The buyer squeezed his eyes closed, sucked in a breath, and every tendon and muscle tensed. "Yeaaaah, this feels right."

"Doesn't matter. Even if it works, you have no mode of transport like we do," Dregar sneered. "You're out of your league." The drug lord pulled out a radio. "Wendall, show our new friends our might."

There was a loud and grinding noise. Rodney watched Sheppard grimace in pain at the sound of an engine in desperate need of repair. A clunky ship, slightly larger than a jumper, flew over the treetops, a clunker made of spare parts pieced together from scrap. It had to be a reject from the Travelers and it wouldn't' surprise him if it leaked fuel.

"This ship is capable of flying from planet to planet. Able to carry our loads to worlds with an orbital gate and shoot down Wraith ships. We've captured many Wraith this way." Dregar drew himself up, and looked Sheppard right in the eye. "You also can't match our firepower." He tapped a remote radio, undoubtedly another piece of stolen tech. "A little demonstration is in order."

Large caliber machine guns turned the trees into mulch. Ordnance from the WWII era was impressive by Pegasus standards. He wondered how a bunch of punks got their hands on such advanced weaponry. By the way the vein throbbed in Sheppard's temple, the colonel was dying to know as well.

Ronon and Teyla didn't react; their training kept them in character. Dregar had a typical villain-like manic grin, savoring the moment. The rust bucket hovered over the forest reduced to paper products.

"I'll be raising the price, Malick. My previous rate is for loyal customers." Dregar wiped the dust away from his coat. "As you can see, there's a reason why I control things on _Darmous_. No one can undermine me."

"Undermine? No. But we can top you." Sheppard grabbed his own radio. "Lorne, clean up this air pollution."

A jumper shimmered out of nowhere and fired a well aimed drone at the ground under the clunker. The explosion took out the piece of junk. The scrap heap plummeted to the ground, the force of the impact nearly knocking everyone off their feet.

"I'm sorry. Did I forget to mention we have ships of our own? Invisible ships?" The colonel pulled Malick to his feet, a stupid grin plastered on his face. "We'll be in touch. And our price still stands." Sheppard covered the flabbergasted group with his P-90. Teyla and Ronon backed away with their weapons trained.

"Your days here are numbered. Take your ball and go home and don't look back. You don't want to make me angry," Sheppard warned.

"You won't like me when I'm angry," Rodney mumbled under his breath.

* * *

Blowing up the big drug lord's ship made you a celebrity. Blowing up said hunk of flying space junk with a more impressive ship made you a deity.

Or perhaps a Jedi Master. Rodney would gladly accept the role of Yoda.

They had their own corner table in the bar with a parade of people lined up to speak to them. Nothing generated buzz like a gossip mill and it was working overtime to help establish their reputations. Sheppard was the hip new Godfather, negotiating to replace Dregar's deals with more planets than they had ever imagined.

"How many worlds has he infected with this addiction?" Sheppard whispered.

"Thirteen," Teyla replied.

Thirteen. And who knew how many more.

"Now we have all the contacts." Ronon smiled wolfishly.

Every deal garnered all the details needed to shut down those operations. And the best part? No one demanded proof of their supply. Not when word of mouth had distorted the facts to the point that people didn't think to ask. Rodney understood now how all those Wall Street sharks had been able to dupe so many supposedly smart people out of their fortunes.

A teenager who didn't look old enough to drink stuck to the back of the bar, eyes roaming a crowd more interested in getting to the bottom of their mugs. Teyla spotted the drifter and rose from her seat. "It is my contact from last night."

"Him?" Rodney gawked.

The kid wandered over casually. "I have more information."

"And we will gladly pay for it if it is as good as last time," Teyla acknowledged.

"Are those Wraith symbols?" the boy asked, staring at the swirls and patterns of her tattoos.

"They are."

"And you can really hear them? Can link to their minds?"

Teyla narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

"What do they think? I mean...why do they do the things they do?"

"Because they can. The weak always fall prey to the strong. Until the day we rise up and prove them wrong."

The kid swallowed then broadened his shoulders. "I know when Dregar is going to transport a major shipment of Wraith venom."

"Where?" Sheppard leaned in.

The boy stood taller. "I want your jacket."

"Sorry, it doesn't belong to you."

"But--"

Sheppard grabbed the informant by the collar and pulled him forward until their noses almost touched. "This isn't about money or prizes. Tell us and we'll crush Dregar into the ground," he rasped so low, his scratchy tone almost muffled it.

People bent on revenge were willing to do anything to achieve it. Sheppard didn't ask the kid for his story. Was a brother or sibling addicted to the enzyme? Were they dead? Who knew. But the teenager spilled the beans about the route of a major convoy loaded with product and he didn't ask for more money.

Sheppard had that glint in his eyes again. "Let's see how our drug lord reacts when we torch some of his supplies."

* * *

A roadside bomb of C-4 reduced Dregar's wagons into a pile of splinters. No need to get into a shootout when you didn't have to.

"Last time I checked we were a gate team. You know. Explore and investigate. Nowhere do the words S.W.A.T or D.E.A. appear in the description." Rodney watched their six to make sure they hadn't been followed. "You really think they're gonna know it was us?"

"I think Colonel Sheppard waved at Dregar's men afterwards," Teyla responded.

The plan was to flush the bad guys out, to have them make mistakes under pressure. If they took out Dregar, someone else would take his place. They needed to locate the engine of his operation and destroy it.

Rodney covered a yawn. "Hey, I thought we were headed to bed? This looks like the way to the tavern."

"I'm thirsty," Ronon said.

Sheppard held the door open for Teyla. "And we're not splitting up."

"Could we get it to go? There's no law that says that we can't." There was no law enforcement, period. Grabbing a sixty ounce cup was shot down but Rodney wondered if they served food. Places like this always had good-old fashioned skewers of meat.

The bar was quiet. Only a few people glanced up from nursing their drinks. The table in the back was occupied and Ronon made a beeline for the bar. Someone else was busing the table and nodded at the Satedan. "What'll y'all have?"

Rodney reached for his stool, debating about asking for water, not wanting to guess what color it might be. Sheppard pulled his aviators off, rubbing at his tired eyes. "Whatever is good."

The bartender grabbed a jug from the back shelf, the flash of metal the only sign of danger when he spun around.

"Gun!" Ronon shouted, grabbing the muzzle.

Rodney shoved Sheppard to the floor when those in the booth behind them fired, bullets whizzing by where the colonel had stood. It took precious seconds for Rodney to scramble off Sheppard and by the time he did, it was too late.

All the patrons were heavily armed and they all pointed their weapons at the team. Despite knocking out the bartender Ronon held his hands up. He and Teyla were both forced to concede to the overwhelming force. Sheppard's P-90 dangled like a carrot from his vest. One of the goons ripped it from its tether and the idiot pointed the barrel stupidly at his own face.

"Did anyone ever tell you playing with toys was dangerous?"

The thug backhanded Sheppard with a meaty paw, nearly rearranging his jaw. Rodney winced and Ronon and Teyla looked ready to take on the whole room.

"That's enough." Dregar strutted into the tavern, patting the shoulders of the dozen or so men who had posed as normal patrons. "It's amazing what a little bribery can obtain, don't you think?"

Sheppard shrugged. "It's easier to buy people than to achieve loyalty."

"Perhaps." Dregar smiled, walking over. He didn't reek of enzyme; his long hair was too well groomed and his tan tunic and pants too refined.

"You don't use it, do you?" Rodney couldn't help asking.

"Of course not. Maybe on occasion, but I need my mind intact."

"This is all about power and money?"

Dregar chuckled. "When is it not?" Even bat-shit insane Ford and his gang had had noble ambitions. Warped, but normal. The drug lord sighed, dusting his vest off. "I just had this cleaned, you know. My Genii scientist insisted that creating the venom without the Wraith was impossible so I slit his throat. It was quite messy. Suffice it to say, I'm going to need a new one."

"What?" Rodney squeaked as two men who hadn't seen a good razor in years grabbed his arms.

Ronon started forward, the muzzle to his skull the only thing keeping him back. Teyla was furious, her eyes pools of liquid fire.

"I hope you're wrong about loyalty. I'd hate to use more unpleasant methods to persuade my newest employee to cooperate," Dregar said ruefully.

"My chemist is not for hire," Sheppard growled, ignoring the rifle shoved into his ribs by a nearby thug.

"But he's about to lose his employer." Dregar turned around, pulling a silver blade from a hidden pocket. "I'm going to cut off your hands and nail them to the outside door to let people know what happens to people who steal from me." Suddenly the Elf King appeared far more deranged, holding the blood stained weapon for all to see. "Of course, I'll have some fun first. Starting with your ears."

"Well you know that old saying, right?" Sheppard taunted despite the threat of torture.

Dregar chuckled. "What's that?"

Sheppard squeezed the left button on his coat collar. "Don't bring a knife to a gun fight."

Rodney plugged his ears and threw himself to the ground. The flash bangs created starbursts behind his closed eyelids and the new sonic grenades only made him want to throw up. He stayed curled in a ball while both his senses were assaulted.

It was pure chaos. Screams, gunfire, stunner blasts. Sight and sound flip-flopped causing him to rake his nails over the hardwood to gain a sense of equilibrium. Things went from a roar to a whimper, but the smell of vomit assaulted his nose.

"Oh, God, I hope I'm dead," he panted.

Gentle hands helped him into a sitting position. "Deep breaths," Teyla instructed.

Breathing....yes, oxygen. Rodney clutched at his middle, not trusting to keep his lunch on the inside. He opened his eyes, the lights from the torches forcing them closed. "A little warning next time," he bitched.

"You knew Lorne was on standby," Sheppard snapped; a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. He swallowed, spat on the floor and one of the Marines handed him a bottle of water to rinse his mouth.

The goon squad had been reduced to quivering bodies on the floor; only a few were still able to stand. The ops team wore all black body armor and face shields. There were no identification marks on their uniforms and each of them covered a bad guy with assault rifles.

Ronon retrieved his blaster and Teyla helped double check for any hidden weapons. Dregar swayed on his feet next to a foul smelling puddle. "Im—impressive...army"

Sheppard grabbed the man's tunic and yanked him to his tiptoes until they were at eye level. "You have one day to leave this planet. Or risk seeing my real temper."

_Their army_ threw all the trash out into the street with great enthusiasm. Lorne raised the face shield of his helmet. "You sure about letting them go?"

Sheppard found his P-90 and inspected it for damage. "Yeah. Dregar is a cockroach. We need to find his nest and burn it. The only way to do that is follow him back to his lair."

* * *

"Has anyone thought about changing hotels?" Rodney suggested. "We were ambushed once already tonight."

"Can't. It is the risk we'll have to take. We need people to know where we are. That's the point," Sheppard reiterated.

Ronon searched for any activity outside the inn. "If people want us dead, hiding won't help."

"How comforting," Rodney sighed. "I for one can't wait to get this coat off."

The three of them turned in unison. "What? It's not my fault the rest of you are wearing twenty pounds of clothes."

Ronon scouted out the halls and the three of them inspected their rooms for danger. Sheppard rubbed at the bruise covering his jaw. "McKay's right. We should all hole up in the same room. We'll drag two beds into mine."

"I never said anything about a sleepover. This is one of the rare times where we each have our own space." But he was ignored. Rodney gazed longingly at his bed, even if the mattress was hell on his back.

"What do we have here?"

The three of them stood around Sheppard who unfolded a note that'd been shoved under his door. "Think we hit the jackpot."

"The answer to string theory?"

"No, but it looks like we have the location of Dregar's main warehouse. We take that out and he's out of business."

"Sounds like a setup," Ronon grunted.

Teyla searched Sheppard's room for any more surprises and returned. "I agree. We do not know who left this."

Rodney wandered to a window that overlooked the alley. "We know now." He saw their informant from earlier. The kid lifted his chin in acknowledgement and walked away.

Sheppard leaned against the wall. "That settles it. We'll get some shuteye and go out at dawn."

* * *

They waited for the Marines to get into position. Lorne's men had tracked Dregar to his lair from the jumper, confirming the authenticity of the note. The pit in Rodney's stomach grew larger by the second, and he checked his tablet PC for any signs of suspicious activity. "Dregar knows we have a small army in our back pocket."

Sheppard put on his yellow-tinted goggles. "He sure does."

"And we've hit him twice already," Rodney warned, switching his glasses for the other eye gear.

"Three if you count reversing that ambush," Sheppard needlessly reminded Rodney.

"That was sweet," Ronon crowed.

Sheppard grinned. "Yeah, it was."

"Will you two stop it? Drug lords have evil reputations for a reason," Rodney snapped.

"This is what we're been waiting for." Sheppard looked over. "To take down his whole operation. The warehouse. The lab. And lastly the big Kahuna."

All four of them still wore their costumes. It was ridiculous; the charade was almost over. In the movies, the music would swell with techno or some awful heavy metal soundtrack, pumping the audience for the final climax.

This was it.

Sheppard tapped his radio. "Teams One and Two, converge on my mark."

His arms trembled from adrenaline, and Rodney gripped his weapon tighter with sweat-slicked hands. One hundred yards to the front door, an explosion or two later, and Beethoven's 5th would soar and twelve Marines were going to leave nothing but dust.

Sheppard slapped him on the arm. "McKay! You're daydreaming again."

"No, I wasn't."

"And you were humming," Teyla said with a smirk.

"I was?"

"Loudly," Ronon added.

"Oh." Rodney rolled his shoulders and loosened his neck like those heavyweight boxers. "Let's do this."

"Just stay on your toes." Sheppard clicked his radio. "Now!"

The entrance blew open and the shouting and weapons' fire began. They followed the first Marine squad inside the front doors while the second special ops team stormed through the back. Thick haze filtered from the smoke grenades, confusing all the dumb-witted inside. The bad guys shot badly and wildly.

The Marines were precise, their laser sights taking out Dregar's blinded men in seconds. Red bursts from Ronon's blaster added to the sci-fi special effects of the ongoing battle. Teyla and Sheppard hung back to provide clean-up, catching those trying to flee.

It was pathetic really. Pop-guns vs automatic weapons. Then Rodney's thoughts strayed to the real reason for doing this, for all those left strung out and ripped apart on many worlds. His heart slammed inside his chest and he let out a little war cry, firing at one of Dregar's minions taking aim at Teyla.

She nodded her thanks. Sheppard curled a fist in the air, keeping them in position as he analyzed all the movements. "Teams One and Two, report," he hissed in his radio.

_"The back is secured, sir_," Sergeant Giles responded.

_"Still encountering resistance,"_ Griffin added from deeper inside the warehouse.

"Confirmed. We're on our way," Sheppard replied, then gestured for them to follow his lead.

Rodney kept up beside him, pulled out his LSD and directed him to all the moving red little dots. Point and fire. Point and fire. And soon all the rats ran out of places to hide.

Four Marines surrounded Dregar who coughed from the smoke; the rest of his men huddled on the ground, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. The drug dealer didn't seem as ruthless surrounded by a black ops team.

"The place is secure, sir." One of the Marines said, handing Dregar over like a Christmas present.

"Fan out and locate his supplies," Sheppard ordered, removing his goggles.

Dregar stood defiantly. "Like I said before. Impressive army."

"Nothing like overwhelming force to clean out the gutters," the colonel replied.

Rodney listened to the conversation with half an ear, studying his read-outs, and started following them down a hall. Something wasn't right. There was a second level to the building; stranger yet, his LSD couldn't read anything past the outside walls. "Hey, guys."

Ronon was there instantly, blaster pointed at the door. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Don't stand in front of it," Ronon said, pushing Rodney away.

"You found something?" Sheppard asked, pointing his P-90 at the entrance.

Why did everyone think a gun made the perfect key? Rodney adjusted his settings. "I'm not sure. There's some kind of interference, but I can tell you there's a basement."

"Could it be his lab? There have been no reports of locating it yet," Teyla inquired.

"Giles is babysitting our prisoners." Sheppard tapped his radio. "Team Two, what's your status?"

"We've found the supply of enzyme. There's got to be three dozen crates or more, sir. We've started securing it."

"Stand by. There's a sub level we're going to investigate. Keep your eye out for reinforcements." Sheppard stared at the mysterious door. "Alright, this calls for an escort. We'll let Dregar set off any security measures."

Ronon hauled the drug lord over and shoved him forward. "Open it."

"With my hands tied?"

"They're not tied behind your back. Now, do it," Sheppard ordered.

Dregar flexed his wrists. "It's just a door," he said, twisting the knob.

Rodney held his breath, and let it out. It was indeed just a door and just a flight of stairs. But he still couldn't detect anything beyond them. Ronon kept a firm grip on the back of Dregar's neck, allowing him to lead them down the steps and into a corridor.

To another door.

Teyla and Sheppard flanked the wooden obstacle and Rodney shook his head at their silent question. There could be a three-ring circus behind it and he wouldn't know. Ronon held his weapon in one hand and pushed Dregar forward with the other.

"I'll share my connections with you. With your venom formula we could all become more powerful together. I have my supply routes. You have the muscle and that invisible ship," Dregar tried to bargain. "There's no need to destroy my lab. In fact, you might even find some useful things inside."

"Please, with a Genii as your head of research?" Rodney snorted.

Sheppard was getting testy. "Just open it."

Dregar let them into a dimly lit room. Rodney could make out buzzing equipment and several work benches as they all walked inside.

The door slammed shut behind them and Rodney recognized the familiar sound of air being pressurized. Before he could shout a warning, four thousand watt spotlights flashed on, blinding them all.

Rodney shielded his eyes with his hands and the room erupted into chaos. There was weapons' fire and movement. Yelling and screaming and grunts of noise. By the time his pupils adjusted to the light, he felt the cold steel of a muzzle pressed to his forehead.

Rodney flinched then rolled his eyes. Of course. Never forget the henchmen. Troff grabbed Rodney by the shoulder and used his body as shield. "Put your weapons down or you won't have anyone to fake the venom."

"What? You know I'm much more valuable than that," Rodney complained while getting the layout of the room.

Three other men covered the team with their guns. Blood ran down Ronon's thigh where he'd been hit, but his blaster never wavered in his hand. Teyla and Sheppard canvassed the room for tactical advantage. Four bad guys. Four team members. Normally great odds. Except Rodney was now a hostage and he should've known the bad guys would have one final trick up their sleeves.

Dregar smiled smugly. "Just in case you think about stalling for time. This room is made of an alloy from the Genii home world. Good for jamming Ancestor tech and for sealing the poison gas that filled the rest of the warehouse. I wouldn't count on your army for a daring rescue."

"Poison gas?" Sheppard growled, low and angry.

Rodney wasn't sure what the colonel was more outraged over. The fact they walked into this trap, or that this was almost the carbon copy ambush used on them by Ladon Radim.

"Knockout gas. The Genii are very good at producing chemical weapons," Dregar answered.

"And underground bunkers," Rodney groaned.

Dregar snorted then his face hardened. "Drop your weapons. It would be a shame to splatter your chemist's brains all over the floor."

Sheppard nodded his acquiescence, his P-90 clattering to the ground. Ronon's blaster followed suit as did Teyla's weapon. One of the goons eagerly gathered them up, taking pleasure in stripping Sheppard of his personal arsenal while the other two bad guys covered the team at a safe distance.

Troff lowered his weapon and Rodney sagged in relief. It was short-lived though. Troff cut Dregar's hands free, and he rubbed at his abraded skin. "All four of you have cost me a lot of money and a great deal of trouble," Dregar sighed, acting the part of the bored, in control evildoer.

The drug lord prattled about this and that, but Rodney's curiosity always got the best of him and he gazed at all the out-of-date consoles. This room ran on electricity, perhaps a primitive generator. The Genii home world had plumbing. Hell, they had constructed nukes, just not very good ones. It shouldn't have been a surprise that a Genii on a drug dealer's payroll wouldn't have been tinkering away on say…an old rust bucket Travelers' ship and whatever else was needed to extract and funnel Wraith enzyme. There had to be at least one guy with an I.Q above a ten year-old's to help with an operation this size.

Dregar strolled over to a table covered with schematics, what passed for a computer in the 1950's,and a zillion other bits of tech. He rummaged through the detritus and removed a...ball point pen?

Teyla gave Ronon a worried look; his pant leg was stained red and blood spilled between the fingers he pressed against the wound. She wanted to help, but knew to keep her distance during the tense situation. She communicated silently with Sheppard, but Rodney couldn't decipher what was being said.

"You were talking about a deal earlier?" Sheppard asked hopefully. Even with the odds stacked against them, he still managed to sound cocky.

"Oh, yes, that deal. I was lying, just as you've been. I know you're all from Atlantis. My sources confirmed things today. I expect your backup will be here soon," Dregar said, twirling the pen-thing. "I want the Wraith venom formula and I'll be on my way."

"Um," Rodney stuttered. He was never good at improvisation.

Dregar tapped the small silver cylinder against his cheek. "I don't have time to waste, Chemist. Give me the formula."

"How about letting us go first."

He knew what was coming: the veiled threat, the punch to the face to force him to comply. Dregar stood in front of Rodney. "My scientist might not have been as smart as you, but he did have his uses. This little device for instance. When inserted, it sends out a small electrical burst that will stop a person's heart for a few seconds." Dregar stepped so close Rodney could see his madness, his glee at the prospect of torture. "Every two minutes it'll send out a stronger pulse. Every two minutes the person's heart will stop longer and longer until it simply doesn't beat anymore."

Rodney dried swallowed. "Yeah?" It was supposed to sound tough. Like_ oh yeah_? But came out a squeak.

Dregar tapped the device against Rodney's chin. "I was told you were not for sale the other day. That money couldn't buy loyalty. I believe that."

Rodney blew a sigh of relief when Dregar backed away. From the looks of things, the rest of his team released quiet ones of their own. He had little doubt that any of them would have allowed Dregar to follow up on his threat.

"So, give me the formula out of loyalty," Dregar announced.

Before Rodney could react, the drug lord whirled around and stabbed Sheppard. The colonel grunted, the tiny cylinder a surreal thing that stuck out of his chest above his heart. There was only a little blood and hell, Sheppard had been injured far worse. But he stared down at the object in confusion, hand poised to yank out the offending thing.

"I wouldn't touch it. Pulling the device out will release a lethal toxin that'll kill you instantly."

Dregar was blissful in full villain mode. Ronon and Teyla looked like they were about to beat the crap out of someone. Sheppard still glared in morbid fascination at the thing in his chest.

Then he gasped, grimacing in pain as his whole body coiled in on itself. "_Ow_."

"In two minutes the next one will be worse," Dregar threatened.

"I'll give you the formula, but stop this!" Rodney snarled.

"I'll deactivate the device only after I possess the formula."

Rodney glared at the drug lord then pulled his tablet out of his backpack. "Fine, just give me...give me a minute.

"You have plenty; not sure how many your friend has," Dregar answered.

Think, think, think. There was no formula to the artificial enzyme. But Dregar wouldn't believe him. He'd think it was a trick. _Just give him what he wants_, Rodney thought. Got it make it look real, any complex chemical compound would do. He could create those in his sleep—he actually did when solutions didn't come to him when he was awake.

His fingers rat-ta-tap-tapped on the keyboard, creating three-D models of what he used to cook up the placebo with Todd. Sheppard sucked in a breath behind him. The guttural noises that followed gave Rodney chest pains.

"Here." He thrust the PC tablet into Dregar's hands. "Now deactivate it."

"Do you honestly think I could find anyone who could read this, let alone re-create it? No, you're coming with me," Dregar said, grabbing his bicep. He looked up at his cronies. "Keep guard. If anyone twitches, kill them." He looked down at Sheppard who panted to catch his breath. "Except him," he chuckled.

"Wait, where are you going?" Troff demanded.

"You fool. Our ship is still broken. I'm going to make our newest member fix it. Then we'll all load up and leave."

"I'm not going anywhere until you help Sheppard!"

Dregar squeezed Rodney's arm harder. "Once the ship is running I'll deactivate it. You have my word."

"McKay's not going with you," Sheppard growled.

"Shut up! Talking here!" Rodney snapped. "It'll take ten minutes at least to get there, start up the ship, and come back. Sheppard can't survive that long!"

Dregar pulled out what appeared to be a key chain. "Get the ship started and I can do it remotely."

The device inside Sheppard's chest was like a mini-defibrillator and the next jolt sent him to his knees. This time he dug his hand into his sternum and his face went ten shades of pale. Each mini-attack would get worse and worse and who knew the type of damage that was being done to the heart muscle.

Teyla moved next to Sheppard, holding on to his shoulder until the attack dissipated. Ronon stood over both of them, a statue of strength despite the spreading redness down his thigh. Rodney pointed a finger at the big guy. "Put a bandage on that!" He faced Sheppard. "I'll be back."

"If anything happens to him, you're dead," Ronon vowed.

"Time's ticking," Dregar mocked as they headed to the door. It took a moment for the entrance to unseal and for a brief second Rodney panicked about any gas vapor. But there wasn't time for that, even if his brain started calculating the parts per million of airborne residuals that still remained. The drug lord never released his arm and it was like dragging forward a dead weight. "I thought you were in a hurry?"

They were inside the hallway headed toward the first step.

"Did you use your ship to get here?"

"What?" Rodney glanced at his watch. They were ten seconds from the next pulse.

"Your invisible ship. Is it outside?"

"Yeah, who cares?" Rodney snarled, trying to squirm out of the iron grip. That was going to leave a spectacular bruise.

They were on the fifth step. Come on!

"And you can pilot it?"

"Of course. Can we hurry up?" But Dregar's words were finally registering and he froze, turning around. "We're not going to _you_r ship, are we?"

Dregar chuckled. "We transported it back, but it's completely inoperable. Too bad Troff is too stupid to realize that. You and your friends ruined my whole operation. Now I'm going to start a new one."

"What?"

"Men are expendable. You and your artificial venom are not. I can start over. Better, stronger. And with your help, even the mighty Atlantis will be unable to stop me."

They were right outside the door to the main warehouse and Rodney felt his stomach knot. "Your remote. It doesn't work."

"Of course not. It's a slow, painful way to die, isn't it? I once watched a rival suffer eight attacks before his heart gave out."

Dregar didn't even have a gun on him. Like Rodney didn't chart on any kind of threat level. He wore a black leather coat, and a necklace of Wraith teeth rattled under his shirt. He might as well be in that stupid lab coat. None of that mattered, did it?

Just his resolve. And it was boiling hot.

It was a game. Peddling poison for wealth and control. Rodney felt a rare type of anger, the kind that came on suddenly and took over all rational thought.

"You're right. You don't know anything about loyalty." Rodney stuck out his leg at the edge of the stairs and shoved Dregar with all his might.

It was all about physics; the drug lord tried to snag Rodney's vest but couldn't control his momentum. Dregar lost his footing and fell down the entire flight of metal steps, his body slamming into all of them, until his head cracked on the last one.

"Oh, God," Rodney breathed, hands gripping the rails.

The hallway below exploded into footsteps and Teyla nearly tripped over the body. She stared dumbstruck for a second then looked up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I mean...I think."

"We need you...it's John."

"What about the bad guys?"

Teyla looked disappointed that even had to ask. "We took care of them."

How much time had elapsed? Seconds? Minutes? Rodney was a blur of motion and Teyla raced to keep up with him. Ronon sat on the floor and held up Sheppard by the shoulders while the colonel struggled to breathe.

"Lay him flat!" Rodney shouted. He had the first aid for heart attacks memorized since it was one of his biggest fears.

Ronon eased Sheppard down and Rodney crouched on the floor, battling his rapid breathing. Calm. He had to stay calm, never mind that Sheppard was dying right in front of him. "Um...okay. Propping up his feet helps force blood to his heart," he yammered.

Teyla folded up her jacket and used it to elevate Sheppard's legs. Then she took out another pressure bandage to start tending to Ronon's leg. Rodney stared at the silver cylinder that protruded out, the evil thing gearing up for another cycle.

Sweat plastered Sheppard's hair to his forehead and his body trembled. His lips were blue and his eyes were squeezed closed in pain.

"How many attacks have there been?"

"That was the fifth one," Ronon grunted, looking pretty pale himself.

"I will go upstairs to see if any of our men are awake to get the jumper or I'll get some help," Teyla informed them even though she clearly didn't want to leave.

Rodney pressed both hands to Sheppard's chest, felt it rise and fall beneath his fingers.

"Just pull it out!" Ronon growled.

"I can't! It might...."

"It's already killing him," Ronon snarled.

Rodney was thankful for whatever restraint Ronon used to keep from doing it already. Okay. Focus. Stop the electrical pulse. He didn't have a jammer. He had nothing to overload it.

Sheppard jackknifed and he gasped for air, fingers clawing Rodney's shirtsleeves. Sheppard's eyes flew wide open, pupils large and naked and scared. Then Sheppard's hands grew lax, dropping to his sides and his rigid body went deathly still.

Ronon cursed, practically vibrated behind him.

Rodney gripped the silver device, counting the seconds when it would start Sheppard's heart back up. He ran his fingers over all sides, searching for indentions, for tiny panels. Anything and everything that would give him a clue as to how to shut it down. But it was all smooth curves with only one tiny uneven point.

Sixty long seconds ticked by and Sheppard's body shuddered and he gasped awake. His eyes were glassy and there was very little left to his voice. "I'm....kind of....sick of this," he panted.

"Believe me, this isn't a picnic on my end!"

How would a Genii program it? Make it so a child could use it. "It couldn't be?" Rodney breathed.

"What?" Ronon demanded.

Rodney pressed a tiny button on the side and waited. Sheppard breathed nosily, his face covered with perspiration. All of them waited, Rodney glued to his watch. When the next two minute mark hit, nothing happened.

"Huh."

Sheppard blinked up at him in a daze. "What...what did you do?"

Rodney cleared his throat. "Um. Turned it off."

"Oh, never thought of that," Sheppard said in honest shock, before closing his eyes in relief.

* * *

Rodney claimed the end of the sofa to hog all the fluffy pillows. He had a bowl of fresh popcorn with extra butter and a diet soda won in a game puzzle quest. Tonight was his turn to pick the movie and he looked forward to watching a remastered version of _Blade Runner_.

He heard Ronon clomping into the rec room before he saw him. He tossed his crutches into a corner and hobbled over, snagging one of the pillows.

"Hey! That's mine."

"You can try to take it back," Ronon dared, propping his legs up and claiming the rest of the couch.

"Do you mind? I don't want to smell your stinky feet."

"Am I going to have to put both of you in the corner?" Sheppard asked, carrying a tray of sandwiches. Teyla walked behind him with a bowl of ice cream.

"Hey? Where did you get that?" Rodney rocketed to his feet, eying the dessert.

She smiled. "A woman never reveals her secrets."

Sheppard pushed the other sofa in the room over and plopped down with a satisfied sigh. "I've been waiting all day for this. Been stuck in meetings with Woolsey for six hours."

Rodney grimaced. "Still have to wear that heart monitor?"

"Nope, which is good. That thing was like a portable lie detector."

"Is there something you were trying to hide?" Teyla asked as she scooped up a mound of chocolate with her spoon.

Sheppard unwrapped the plastic around his sandwich. "No, but the beeping was driving me crazy."

"Did Lorne come back from the mission?" Ronon asked.

"Yeah. He's used the intel to track down Dregar's Wraith hunting operations on two planets. They found another beat-up old ship and took it out, but it's going to take a while to track down all the parts of his network. It was pretty widespread." Sheppard sprawled out his lanky legs. "We derailed things for now, but it's going to take a lot of manpower to keep on it. Woolsey isn't sure how much the SGC is willing to pony up for the extra resources."

"The war on drugs doesn't work very well on Earth and has billions of dollars," Rodney grouched.

"Well, it is a start," Teyla reiterated. She looked at the blank screen and back up at him. "What are we watching tonight?'

Rodney rubbed his hands together and pressed the start button on the remote. "A classic."

When a familiar voiceover didn't start and Harrison Ford's name was replace by George Clooney's, he glared at Sheppard. "What the hell is this?"

"Ocean's 13. Better than 12. Tried to find _The Sting_, but it wasn't in the library."

"We just survived a big con game. I don't want to watch a movie about it!"

"I don't know. I think it's a good representation. Maybe you could take notes for next time." Sheppard grinned.

"Notes?"

"I could get _Tombstone_," Ronon offered, beginning to stand.

"No!" Rodney huffed, crossing his arms.

But he rubbed the side of his chin, thinking about a certain piano tune, only to have the theme to_ Miami Vice_ start up again. He slumped down defeated in his seat, wondering why he punished himself this way.

* * *

Fini


End file.
